


we were angels once

by MostWeakHamlets



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Emotional Abuse, Emotional Manipulation, Fantasy AU, Human-ish AU, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Royalty AU, Sick Crowley (Good Omens), a lot of death but none of the main charactes, author borrowed heavily from the great comet, don't think about that too hard and just enjoy it, heaven and hell and demons and angels don't exist au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-08
Updated: 2020-01-30
Packaged: 2021-02-27 15:34:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22169467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MostWeakHamlets/pseuds/MostWeakHamlets
Summary: The kingdoms of Anaon and Elysium have been at war for 21 years. In 1878, peace talks to seriously end the fighting begin. Prince Crowley of Anaon meets the heir apparent of Elysium and, like all good love stories, they fall in love after three days.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley/OC
Comments: 12
Kudos: 34





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> First of all, major shoutout to kumishii on tumblr for being rad and helping me develop this au!!
> 
> Second, some of this au isn't going to make sense right away. There's a lot to it that gets explained in later chapters. There's a family tree at the end. 
> 
> Important ages:  
> Crowley: 19  
> Beelzebub: 16  
> Aziraphale: 20

1878.

Crowley rose before the sun, beginning his routine. 

He ate a modest serving of fruit before maids joined him and began fluttering around the room, opening the curtains and his wardrobe and running a bath. They washed him and dressed him and combed out the tangles from his hair. 

Crowley looked at his reflection before he left the room. He would do it again five more times before officially meeting anyone. 

The three of them lead him to the kitchen and sat him down at the stool in front of the stove. 

“Are you nervous for today, my lord?” one maid asked. 

She began sectioning his hair as the others prepared the curling iron, lighting the stove and placing the wand over the flame. Her thin, nimble fingers worked fast to clip his top layers out of the way. She smiled a lot, and Crowley wished he could remember her name. 

“I don’t think I’d call it nervous,” he mumbled. 

She was pushed out of the way by another maid (Crowley also wished he remembered her name) who was ready to start curling. She stood the side. 

“Do you need anything, my lord?” she asked, her thin fingers laced together in front of her apron. “Are you peckish?”

Crowley’s stomach did twist with hunger. He shook his head. 

“I’m fine. You can leave.”

Her curtsy was jerky. She scurried away like a mouse. 

* * *

Beelzebub woke when their curtains were violently thrown open. 

“Get up!”

They sat up after the door was shut and glared at the sun lighting up the room. They scrubbed their hands over their eyes and looked around the room. A tray of breakfast, now cold probably, sat across their room on their desk. It was placed on the corner, avoiding the papers that Beelzebub had left out the night before (which was actually the same morning). It was probably worth eating the breakfast and looking over the papers more. 

Beelzebub crawled out of bed, wrapping the bedspread around their shoulders and pulling it with them. Mornings were the worst for Beelzebub. They were too cold and too bright and everyone seemed to be _perky._

They took a bite of cold egg and scanned the papers, mumbling statistics of battles and armies they had memorized long ago. 

* * *

Lucifer left Beelzebub’s room and joined Mephistopheles in the hall. 

“They better be ready by the time I come back up here. They’ve been woken three times now.”

“They’re young, be gentle.”

“I’ve tried being gentle with Beelzebub. They don’t respond to it.” He grimaced. “They get bite-y when I’m gentle. I think they see me as vulnerable when I’m gentle.”

Mephistopheles snorted. “They’ll grow out of it, I’m sure.”

They walked through the halls, Lucifer occasionally checking in with guards and servants as he passed them. The palace was full of activity with only one hour left until guests were to begin arriving. 

In the kitchen, they met Crowley. Half of his hair was curled, and he sat perfectly still in his stool.

“How are you, darling?” Lucifer asked. 

Crowley looked at Mephistopheles. “I have a headache.”

“I expected you would,” Mephistopheles said.

The maids stepped aside. Crowley rolled his head while Mephistopheles pulled a glass vial of pills out of his pocket. 

Lucifer cupped Crowley’s face and kissed his forehead. Crowley was the picture-perfect prince. He had a flawless complexion with youthful freckles covering his nose and cheeks. His hair was shiny despite the constant use of the curling wand. But his face was ashen and the yellows of his eyes spread into the white. 

“You look pale,” Lucifer said. “And your eyes are blown.”

“It’s the headache.”

Crowley took a pill from Mephistopheles, swallowing it with a glass of water that was handed to him. He said nothing to the court physician. 

“You still look beautiful,” Lucifer said. “Good job.”

* * *

Aziraphale rushed out of the palace, a book tucked under his arm. 

“The King Regent left an hour ago, my Lord” a guard said. 

Aziraphale nodded and climbed into his waiting carriage. 

“I know. The plan was to leave after him.”

“But so late?”

The guard smirked. Aziraphale closed the door and leaned out the window. 

“Someone had to tie up loose ends,” he said. 

Aziraphale was not tying up loose ends. He was taking his time studying the notes Gabriel had left for him and took his time dressing and took his time at breakfast and took his time selecting what book he would like to read on the drive to Anaon. By the end of him taking his time, he was running half an hour late. 

The carriage drove away. Aziraphale opened his book. It was well-loved. The pages were soft and the spine was worn. Tucked inside the final pages were the notes Gabriel gave him.

* * *

Gabriel and Michael stepped into Anaon’s palace as if they owned it. As if they owned any palace. 

“Regent,” Lucifer greeted with a smile a bit too wide. “I’m pleased we can meet under these circumstances.”

“Likewise, Your Grace. I hope today is productive.” Gabriel turned to Michael. “This is my advisor, Michael.”

“Charmed. And Prince Aziraphale--”

“Is coming later. He should be on his way. His schedule has been so full that we agreed he would arrive later with the rest of our court.”

Aziraphale didn’t have a full schedule. His schedule was usually empty, and Gabriel had made sure of that for years. Any opportunity he could keep Aziraphale out of political talks, he took. It was Michael’s idea to have him run late that morning in case anything needed to be discussed immediately. 

“Well, we won’t start without the dear,” Lucifer said. “I’ll have you shown to your rooms. I have a few more duties to attend to this morning, but if you need anything, my servants will provide it.”

* * *

Miles and miles away, Aides finished his letter. 

_My dearest, I long for your meetings to end so that you may have peace of mind and visit us again. I promise that I’ll be here and you won’t have to suffer through my family alone again. Please take care of yourself and write back when you have a few moments to spare to think of me._

_Your love,_

_Aides_

He skimmed the letter and picked up his pen again. 

_p.s my parents await to hear from your uncle about further wedding details after the peace talks._

He let the ink dry before handing the letter to the servant who stood next to him. 

“Have this delivered to Anaon immediately--to Prince Crowley.”

The servant nodded and without a word left. Prince Aides carried on with his day. 

* * *

Aziraphale smiled at Gabriel as he rushed into the palace. Gabriel scowled and touched the pocket watch on his uniform. 

“Your Highness! How was your journey?” 

Suddenly, Lucifer was by his side. Aziraphale smiled. The King was handsome and appeared to be kind. His dark beard was neatly trimmed, and his uniform was pressed and clean. It made Aziraphale feel poorly about his appearance--his face felt oily and his dress clothes felt dusty. He wished he had a fancy uniform to wear himself but was limited to his tailcoats and tartan cravat. 

“It was fine, Your Grace,” Aziraphale said. 

“There’s been a bit of socializing down here since the courts have begun arriving, but please take your time in readying yourself. I’ll have you shown to your room.” Lucifer waved over a servant. “And I’ll alert everyone that you’ve arrived safely.”

Aziraphale enjoyed the dark aesthetic of the palace and its people. Where everyone in his own court wore pale grays and whites (himself opting for beiges with a splash of bright color when he could get away with it) and their tartan, Lucifer’s people were dressed in black. 

“My children will be pleased to meet you,” Lucifer added with a smile. “They’ve been without someone close to their own age for so long, they’ve been _dying_ for company.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know how when you open a fantasy novel and there's a map in the front and you're like "oh shit's getting real." Well, have that same view for this family tree


	2. Chapter 1




Crowley stood behind Beelzebub, fixing their collar and sash. 

“Please stop,” they said. 

“I’m trying to make you look nice. You know Lucifer would do the same.” 

“But you’re not Lucifer.”

Crowley ignored them and continued fussing over their outfit. It was as if they never learned to dress properly, and Crowley knew they refused to let any of the servants help. Crowley didn’t understand why. He loved having the maids help him into his clothes and brush his hair before every formal occasion. 

“You could at least have combed your hair this week,” he mumbled.

He tried working out a few tangles with his fingers, but Beelzebub hissed and swatted him.

“They’re peace meetings. It’s not a reason to get pretty.”

“They’re  _ the  _ peace meetings. It’s the perfect reason to get pretty. It’s important that we look presentable or they’ll leave.”

“That won’t happen. That’s just what Lucifer told you to because he’s going to make you charm everyone.”

There was a knock on the door. 

“Oh, speaking of the devil,” Crowley said. “Enter!”

“These are my rooms! You don’t get to tell people to enter.”

Lucifer opened the door and smiled. 

“Look at you two,” he said, walking forward. “You look wonderful.”

Crowley moved to stand beside Beelzebub. They looked like little dolls to Lucifer, they knew. Little playthings dressed up in their formal wear. They wore their ceremonial uniforms though neither of them had particular plans to ever actually serve in their military. They had made several appearances with Lucifer to congratulate the army or to give them a morale boost but did little else to justify wearing the uniforms or holding their high ranks. Crowley, having been deemed practically useless as the non-heir prince, wasn’t expected to do much for the war. And Beelzebub, who had much greater expectations thrust upon them but was only 16, was forbidden from doing anything that was risky. 

“Alright,” Lucifer said. “Let’s learn our places for the day. Crowley?”

“I’m quiet until the dinner party. Then, I get to flirt with the guests.”

“You’re betrothed, remember?”

Crowley forced a smile. Every day for the past year he was reminded about his fiance, far away from him in more ways than one. 

“I’ll socialize with them,” he said. 

“Better. Beelzebub?”

Beelzebub sighed. “I’m to be on my best behavior.”

“None of your usual pestering. And remember everything that we studied these past weeks.”

Beelzebub nodded. “Try to get the best deal from them. They’re in the middle of a famine, we can use that to our advantage.”

“Wonderful.” He put his hands on their shoulders. “I’m proud of both of you. It’s going to be a long couple of weeks for all of us, so I  _ need  _ you to stay in your roles. Crowley, you’re the beautiful, charming prince. Beelzebub, you’re our intelligent heir.”

They nodded. Lucifer was always strict about them fitting into their “roles.” So much so that he fired Crowley’s tutor when Crowley was excelling in his courses at age 10. 

“Most of our guests are downstairs now. The prince arrived this morning, and he’s freshening up. I don’t expect we’ll see him until the meetings. But I expect you two to make nice with the king regent and the rest of the court in the meantime. I don’t want any bridges to be burned before we even sit down.”

They nodded. Lucifer raised his eyebrows at Beelzebub. 

“No bickering,” he said. Beelzebub rolled their eyes. “No biting.”

“I wouldn’t!”

“No shapeshifting, either. That goes for both of you.”

“What if someone  _ really  _ wants to see it,” Crowley asked. 

“They won’t.”

“How do you know?” Beelzebub asked. 

“I just do.”

“What if they shift first?” Crowley asked. 

“They don’t shift.”

Beelzebub groaned. “They’re not even proper magic?”

“And that’s an example of something we won’t be saying,” Lucifer said. “They’re healers. The prince is, at least.”

Beelzebub wrinkled their nose in disgust. Crowley had never met a healer before, but he was eager to see what they could do. He wondered what he would have to do to see the prince use his powers. 

“Be on your best behaviors, or you’ll stay in your rooms until for the entirety of our guests’ stay and only leave for meetings and meals.”

Beelzebub and Crowley huffed. They were eager to meet the guests, to ask them a thousand questions about their military and courts and, now, their magic. They wanted to get drunk at the parties that would be happening and cause trouble when Lucifer’s back was turned. They wanted to be the princes they were raised to be with their own court. 

“Be downstairs in a few minutes,” Lucifer ordered. 

They nodded. 

“And Beelzebub, darling, comb your hair.”

* * *

Crowley was more focused on how his hair fell over his shoulders than the actual conversation. 

King Regent Gabriel was still talking, though, and that meant that he still believed Crowley was listening. 

“We redistributed our wealth,” Beelzebub said. 

“And cut corners with your military budget,” Gabriel said with a tight smile.

“We didn’t cut spending on anything essential,” Beelzebub said. “We pulled money away from restorations for historic buildings like this palace and gave it to our farmers. Money that went to entertainment is going to our grocers. We’re keeping famine and poverty at bay.”

It was apparently an argument. Crowley pulled at another wave of hair. 

“But have you really?” Gabriel asked. “Or is it an illusion?”

Beelzebub glared and opened their mouth but stopped themself before they said anything. They closed their eyes and took a deep breath. Crowley imagined they had an insult ready to go. He would have loved to hear it, but Lucifer’s orders hung over both of them. 

“That’s why we asked for these peace meetings, I suppose,” Beelzebub said, their tone fake cheery. They had the ability to sound quite young and chipper at times--which Crowley had seen them use to their advantage. 

Crowley smiled when Gabriel looked at him. His fingers were still in his hair. He felt the curls begin to lose their bounce. They were probably going to look droopy by the end of the meetings, and he’d get them touched up before dinner while dressing. 

“What do you make of all this?” Gabriel asked him. 

Crowley wasn’t sure what he meant. The meetings? The war? The budgeting? His hair? Crowley shrugged, hands falling to his side. 

“I think it’s rotten,” he said. “I don’t like the war very much. And Lucifer didn’t listen to me when I said we should get the army new uniforms. They’re old now, and I think they’d like a new design. I know I want something different.”

Crowley looked at his uniform and Beelzebub sighed. Gabriel smiled at him as a person smiles at a toddler who’s showing them their best drawing. 

“You know,” he said, “you are very pretty.”

Crowley beamed. “Thank you! I get told that a lot!” 

The woman that had been standing next to Gabriel all morning but had yet to say more than a few words rolled her eyes. Crowley gave her a dirty look as the conversation turned back to Beelzebub. Crowley didn’t take kindly to people who rolled their eyes at him. Except for Beelzebub and Lucifer. They were the only exceptions because Crowley felt that they had earned the right to roll their eyes and huff when he said something less than smart. And that was because when he said something less than smart, he usually did it first thing in the morning when he was trying to figure out how big the royal chickens made the eggs that morning before they were scrambled for him. He asked because he only allowed himself two eggs every morning but if the eggs were big, he would be cheating and if they were too small, the chickens would be cheating him. 

Lucifer informed him that the eggs were the same size every day after he tried crafting a model of the whole eggs out of the scrambled ones. 

“I should see if our prince is ready,” she said. 

Her name was Michael if Crowley remembered correctly. She was the royal advisor who had taken over for Gabriel when he assumed the regency. And the prince was the prince for a reason Crowley didn’t understand. Lucifer had tried explaining the laws of their land. The prince was too young when his parents died to start his reign and Gabriel stepped in as planned. There were more laws for why Aziraphale didn’t even hold the title of King or why he had yet to get the throne, but Crowley had a hard time listening to politics. 

Michael excused herself as Lucifer approached. He put a hand on Crowley’s shoulder. 

“Have I missed anything too terribly exciting?” 

“We were talking about how we redistributed the wealth these past few years,” Crowley said. “And I was telling them how you wouldn’t replace the uniforms for the army and instead put the money towards the schools.”

“Crowley, silly darling, I told you that wasn’t part of us rearranging the budget. The money was going to the schools in the first place, and the army was never going to get new uniform designs. We would have made the same decisions during peacetime.” Lucifer laughed. “He’s not the heir, fortunately.” 

Crowley’s chest ached, though he laughed along with the two older men. Beelzebub smirked when they caught Crowley’s gaze. 

“Although, with Crowley, there would be no war. Just flashy uniforms and perfectly styled hair,” Lucifer continued. “Perhaps that’s a solution we should discuss today.”

Crowley looked to the floor. His boots were perfectly shined and not even creased. He hadn’t worn them outside yet. 

“Uncle, it’s so hot in here,” he said. “I need air.”

“Be back soon, darling.”

Crowley pulled away from Lucifer and walked towards the doors. As he was leaving his side, he heard Lucifer say, “poor thing has a weak constitution.”

He slid past court members who were trying their best to be civil with one another. They barely noticed him when he asked for them to excuse him as he squeezed between their tailcoats and uniforms. Guards barely glanced at him as he rushed to the front of the palace and out the front doors. 

The morning air still had enough of a chill to it to sting his cheeks. 

He looked out across the acres of land in front of him. They were so detached from their kingdom, living in what was essentially their own little city. He looked at the dukes’ houses and the guards who stood at the bottom of the steps where he stood. Their backs were to him. 

Crowley leaned against the wall of the palace. He didn’t want to sit through the meetings anymore. He was tired after hearing those comments, and his hair was looking worse now. And to top it all off, the king regent and his court weren’t interesting at all. They were pretentious and snobbish, and he didn’t like how they looked at him as if he couldn’t understand the looks. He was used to being fawned over by visiting courts and being told how pretty he was. That was why he had maids spend hours on his hair and outfits. 

“Crowley--”

“Dammit!”

Crowley jumped. He hadn’t heard Beelzebub open the door or walk to his side. They were always unsettlingly quiet. 

“What?” Crowley snapped. 

“Lucifer said to come back inside. The meetings are starting soon.”

Crowley pushed away from the wall and ran his fingers over the hair that had been pressed against the stone. He followed Beelzebub back inside and into the meeting room and sat down in his seat, across from the crown prince whose eyes were the most calming shade of blue. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got overambitious with this chapter, and it turned out to be a mess. I tried fixing it. But there's always a point where a writer has to say, "I'm done. The world can see it like this." 
> 
> So, this chapter isn't great. But it's a chapter.

“I would be honored to dance,” Crowley said for the twentieth time that night. “Unfortunately, it wouldn’t be proper.”

“Surely, you’re not spoken for?”

“I’m betrothed, engaged, affianced, what have you.”

The court member shook his head. Crowley didn’t even learn his name. He was a newer addition to Lucifer’s court and had been eyeing Crowley for ten minutes before working up the nerve to talk to him. Men on Lucifer’s court, despite most likely knowing that Crowley was engaged, often asked Crowley for his companionship. The women weren’t as persistent and at least had the goodwill to let Crowley borrow a comb they had in their handbags later on. 

“Where is he then?” 

“He has his own duties in his own country.”

“He’d leave you all alone with all these people around, knowing what you look like?”

“Considering we’re all here for peace meetings, I don’t think it’s likely that he’s worried about my virtue tonight. You are aware why you were all called here today, don’t you?”

The man nodded and walked away. 

Crowley hadn’t seen much of Aides in the past six months. He had avoided traveling to  Asphodel  when he knew Aides was to be busy or away. Crowley had grown to hate his future in-laws. They weren’t human as far as he was concerned. They were evil and wicked and there was no way they were related to his sweet Aides. 

“Excuse me, Your Highness. I saw you alone here, and I wondered…”

Crowley wished Lucifer had never left his side. People hardly approached him with Lucifer next to him and if they did, they asked Lucifer for Crowley’s hand in a dance. Lucifer always rejected them on Crowley’s behalf. It was annoying to not truly exist outside of being a temporary fantasy for most of the people at their balls, but it was better when he didn’t have to turn down diplomat after diplomat by himself.

Crowley cleared his throat as he watched the latest man he turned away to find someone else to dance with. He blinked away tears. He was just tired, he told himself. He wasn’t truly upset about being alone. It was a long day. He would feel better once he was able to relax.

* * *

Aziraphale hated meetings. They were long and boring, and he never had anything to say. Gabriel’s notes were essentially useless. He was completely lost as everyone--including the 16-year-old prince of Anaon--talked circles around him. Gabriel had asked him for his opinion when Aziraphale had no idea what to say. He was certain Gabriel had done it on purpose. “Tough love” is what Gabriel had called it in the past. 

To make matters worse, the other prince would lean forward whenever Aziraphale stumbled for words. Aziraphale couldn’t concentrate with that going on. 

The only relief at the end of the day came with the party. It was a ball, essentially, though the court certainly played it down when he read about it in the letters weeks before. The eldest prince had planned it all apparently, and Aziraphale wasn’t surprised to see the ballroom covered in beautiful decorations or the band playing refined music. The prince was, for lack of a better term, gorgeous. He was more than gorgeous, but Aziraphale was certain that there wasn’t a word invented yet to fully describe him. 

His hair ran down his back and over his chest. It was a dark red inside the meeting room but once Aziraphale got to see it outside during a break, it lit up. He was the only redhead among all the dozens of court members of both kingdoms. And he stuck out for more reasons than his hair. 

Prince Crowley looked as if he put just a little bit more effort into his appearance than everyone else at the meeting. His uniform was immaculate, his boots looked brand new, and all of his grooming looked much better than that of the tired, older people who drank their coffee during their breaks. 

The prince was gorgeous, and Aziraphale assumed it spread to everything he touched. He had changed from his uniform into a gown and his long hair had been tied up into an updo. The bustle was not modest. The train pinned up into a sizeable bump in the back and still fell to the ground and trailed behind him. The sleeves were short and exposed the pale, freckled arms Aziraphale hadn’t realized he wanted to see. The bust dipped down to show off his strong collar bones and clung tightly to his thin torso. 

The guests filled the room. There were the courts, the courts’ spouses, other members of the Anaon government, and their spouses. And they all seemed to look at Crowley. Court member after court member from both sides took his hand and kissed his knuckles. 

Crowley stood in the middle of the room, soaking up the attention. It was as if the whole room was built around him.

“This isn’t my scene.”

“What?”

Aziraphale hadn’t noticed Gabriel walk up next to him. He jumped and looked to the regent who held up his hands defensively like he was approaching a startled animal. 

“It’s not my scene,” Gabriel repeated. “I’m leaving. Be charming if you’re capable. You need to make up for today, and we need these people to like us.”

Aziraphale sighed as Gabriel walked away. 

Crowley was still getting attention. He smiled and laughed at what the older men said to him. Aziraphale began taking steps toward him. Maybe they could finally be formally introduced to one another after sitting across from one another all day and Aziraphale could finally touch those pale, dainty hands. 

Aziraphale was close when King Lucifer stepped up to his nephew, effectively blocking Crowley off from him. Lucifer took Crowley’s hand, and the two of them disappeared behind a swarm of people. The music slowed and people flooded the middle of the floor to dance, pushing past Aziraphale with their partners, not even noticing who they bumping shoulders with.

* * *

Crowley took a deep breath to calm himself. The music changed again--into one of the slow waltzes he had requested weeks ago. He squared his shoulders and lifted his chin. He wouldn’t let his guests see how unhappy he was. It wasn’t becoming a host to mope. 

Crowley saw Lucifer approach him again. He smiled the best he could. His cheeks hurt. 

“What’s a pretty thing like yourself doing here all alone?” 

“People keep leaving when I tell them I’m spoken for.”

“Oh. Well, that’s a shame. I wouldn’t leave you. You’re far too beautiful to be left alone.”

Crowley looked away, raising his nose to the air. “I have a fiance waiting for me elsewhere. I don’t think he’d be pleased to see me socializing with strange men like this.”

Lucifer gasped in faux scandal. “You shouldn’t consider me a strange man. Would you care to dance?”

Crowley tried not to laugh. “What do you take me for? A harlot? My fiance wouldn’t marry a harlot.”

“I don’t think your prince will mind.” Lucifer took his hand. “I’m serious, darling, share a dance with your old uncle.”

“I suppose once dance wouldn’t hurt.”

Crowley felt lighter as they walked to the middle of the room. Lucifer laid one hand on his waist and the other on his shoulder.

Eyes were on him again. 

“Everyone seems pleased,” Lucifer said. “You did a fine job planning this.”

“Where’s Beelzebub?”

“They left after the first few minutes.” 

“Oh. Of course.”

“They’re young, and they don’t find the same pleasure in these parties that you do.”

“They could have danced with me at least.”

“They’re not a gifted dancer. I think you were better off without a partner.”

Crowley hummed. He looked around as he glided across the room. His guests were smiling.

“Are people really enjoying themselves?” Crowley asked. 

“They are! You were right to ask for another case of wine to be brought in. It’s definitely being drunk.”

Waiters walked through the crowds offering glasses to the guests who greedily accepted them. Crowley watched their movements. They could empty a tray in minutes if they walked into populated pockets. 

“What have you been up to all night?” Lucifer asked. 

“Supervising everything.”

“Anything else? You can’t have been watching everyone all night.”

Crowley saw a few lonely stragglers. Prince Aziraphale stood among them, looking to be struggling through conversation. Crowley focused on him, his stomach flipping.

“I’ve been thinking about what I’d change if I could do this again,” he said. 

“Taking notes?”

Crowley nodded. Aziraphale fiddled with the base of his wine glass. It was the best crystal the palace had.

“I want a big wedding,” Crowley said. 

“Ah.  _ That’s  _ what you’ve been thinking about.”

“I want you to spend a lot of money on it.”

Lucifer chuckled. “Alright. When we’re not spending money on the war, we’ll spend it on your wedding.”

“I want a nice dress--two dresses. One for the ceremony and one for the reception.”

“You can have whatever your heart desires, darling. I’ll spoil you to death with this wedding.”

Aziraphale waved his hand awkwardly as he spoke to the men next to him. He tugged at his waistcoat and tie. The poor thing needed to be saved. 

“If you want the stars to be there,” Lucifer continued. “I’ll have them rip the ceiling off of this building for the night. I’ll get you anything that’ll make you happy.”

Crowley thought about asking for him to keep Aides’ family away, but he knew it would turn into a lecture. For now, he’d just bask in his uncle’s doting while they were still together. 

He wished the dance would last forever. If it did, there would be no time for new dances to start. There would be no dance with Aides at his wedding. There would be no dance with Lucifer when he officially gave him away. There would be no silly dances Crowley would inevitably force Beelzebub into behind closed doors when he had too much wine the night before the ceremony. 

And if they kept dancing, they couldn’t end the war. If the war didn’t end, there would be no money for his big wedding. He could stay engaged forever. 

If they kept dancing, Crowley didn’t have to let go. 

But the music ended, and Crowley couldn’t hold onto his uncle’s jacket hard enough. Lucifer took a step back and bowed. 

“Thank you for sharing that dance with me, Your Highness. Your fiance is a lucky man.”

“Thank you for asking for my hand. Hopefully, my fiance will never know about this.”

Lucifer smiled and kissed his forehead. 

“I have to go find your cousin,” Lucifer said with a grimace. “I’ve no idea where they wandered off to, and I’m nervous about them being… unsupervised like this for too long.”

Crowley knew where Beelzebub was  _ going  _ to be later that night, but it wouldn’t be good for Lucifer to know that.

“They’re probably looking for bugs to collect and shove under doors in the middle of the night.” Crowley thought for a moment. “Or they’re looking over notes for tomorrow’s meeting.”

“There’s no way of knowing with that child.”

“I still think you should get a leash for them.”

Lucifer nodded. “We’ll see.”

Another song began, and guests continued their dancing with the flourish of violins. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow morning,” Lucifer said, stepping out of the way. 

Crowley was left alone again. 

He stepped away from the crowd and found himself against the wall, guests brushing past him with their newly-selected partners. They took his place on the dance floor. He took a deep breath and wondered if he could get away with leaving early to get a tipsy buzz in his room alone before stumbling off to the next party. And, really, was the next party even worth going to? The only motivation for going was the liqueur that was definitely going to be there and to make sure Beelzebub made it back to their own room. 

Crowley wandered around the perimeter of the room. He grabbed a glass of wine in passing as he smiled at his guests and slowly made his way to the door. If he could avoid conversation, he could sneak out. 

Aziraphale was only a few feet away, and Crowley couldn’t resist walking up to his side. The prince looked anxious and cornered by members of his own court. He smiled and though it was admittedly adorable, it was obviously forced. 

The temptation of going back to his own room for an hour wasn’t strong enough for Crowley. 

“Prince Aziraphale!”

Aziraphale looked at Crowley and appeared to relax. 

“Your Highness.”

The court members barely looked at Crowley. They glanced at him before turning back to Aziraphale who looked desperate for the interruption. 

“Uriel, was it?” Crowley asked. 

Uriel couldn’t have been much older than Aziraphale--if she even was older. She held herself differently. She looked confident, and Crowley had to admit that she deserved it. Her contributions during the meetings that day had made Crowley believe that she was one of the smartest court members Elysium had. She spoke up more than Aziraphale, though that wasn’t an incredible achievement. 

“Your Highness,” she greeted. 

He looked her up and down. Even if she was smart, Crowley wasn’t sure if he liked her. Like the rest of the court, her clothes were drab, and anyone who didn’t put their personal spin on their appearance wasn’t worth Crowley’s respect. The Elysium court wore suits that looked to similar that Crowley was certain it was a dress code they had to follow at all times. Except for Prince Aziraphale.

Aziraphale wore different colors--soft blues in place of boring grey--and his style of suit looked more comfortable. Where everything was form-fitting on the court, Aziraphale had a loose jacket and trousers. 

Crowley didn’t bother acknowledging the other two. He had already lost interest. 

“It’d be nice to talk outside of meetings,” Crowley said to Aziraphale. “Can’t believe there’s finally someone about my age around here.”

He took Aziraphale’s arm, looping his own through it. He smiled politely at the three looking at them. 

“I’ll only have him for a moment,” he said. “I’d just like to talk to him before I retire for the night.”

Crowley walked away with Aziraphale. They slipped through the crowd until they were safely away from the prying eyes. 

“Thank you,” Aziraphale said. 

“No need to thank me.” Crowley broke free from their embrace and turned to face him. “I thought I’d be a terrible host if I didn’t see you personally. And I just wanted to talk to you. And I thought your friends over there looked like… well, unfriendly.” 

“You wanted to talk to me?” 

Crowley shrugged. He looked away from the face that preciously lit up--the eyes that shone and the cheeks that rose in color. Not to mention that smile. 

“I said you’re the only one here around my age. Doesn’t happen too often.”

“It doesn’t happen often in Elysium either. I’m mostly surrounded by people at least twice my age.”

“And sometimes older?”

“Quite often,  _ much  _ older.”

Crowley had to stop himself from grabbing his hand, but he did smile wide at Aziraphale. 

“Miserable, isn’t it?” he asked. 

“Absolutely dreadful.”

“You know, the only person I have here that’s even somewhat of a companion is Beelzebub.”

“Oh, she seems--”

“They.”

“I do beg your pardon.  _ They  _ seem very… intelligent.”

“They’re too smart for their own good. They’re also too psychopathic for  _ my  _ own good. As a child, they used to behead their dolls or rip out their hair and leave them around the palace.”

“Oh, dear.”

“And now they just watch me sleep some nights, but that’s all in good fun. I can usually keep them out if I lock the door.”

Aziraphale looked worried and said nothing. Crowley quickly changed the subject before he told Aziraphale anything about the bugs and rats Beelzebub had tried keeping as pets in their room as a kid. Or the number of times the two of them had taken turns pretending to be a physician when Beelzebub declared that Crowley was too far gone to be cured by medicine and should be put out of his misery before putting a pillow over his head and sitting on it. 

“They’re fine most of the time. Just have an odd sense of humor. They’re actually going to be at the party tonight, which is a little unusual of them.”

“Party?”

Crowley did finally reach out to Aziraphale. He touched his elbow and leaned in close. 

“You don’t know?”

Aziraphale shook his head. 

“It’s good I got to you before I left. After this is all over, there’s going to be a party at Duke Ligur’s house. You know the house closest to the palace in the back?”

“Your court really live in their own dwellings?”

“Usually. The palace is mostly for our family and the servants and guests. Some court members live here. Mephistopheles does, but that’s because he’s the physician and we might need him in an emergency.”

“I see. And Duke Ligur lives closest in that little square?”

“Yup. I’m leaving now to change. After this is over, give everyone maybe half an hour and head over. And  _ don’t  _ tell anyone. It’s secret. We don’t want your people knowing about it--no offense, but we don’t know about them yet. We’ve been at war with them for 20 years.”

“But you’re inviting me.”

Crowley paused. He hadn’t thought of Aziraphale as being one of them. All day, he had seemed too kind and too thoughtful. When Crowley thought of the evil people that had been fighting and arguing with his own people, Aziraphale didn’t come to mind. 

“Yeah, well, it’s different, isn’t it? You’re you. You’re… young.”

Aziraphale pushed his shoulders back and lifted his chin. “And why should I trust  _ your  _ people? What if this is a scheme of some sort?”

“You probably shouldn’t trust anyone here. But this is just a party. We’re getting drunk and complaining about your lot. Nothing’s going to happen. Do you know how bad it would be if something did happen? Peace talks would stop, and then what would be the point of me planning this entire ball tonight. Besides, you know it’s not a scheme because my uncle knows nothing about this, and I’m close to begging you to not mention any of this to anyone who might tell him.”

“Why?”

“Because he wouldn’t allow it. He at least wouldn’t allow Beelzebub and I to go.”

“So, you’re both sneaking out?”

“Yes.”

Aziraphale tugged at his jacket. 

“Are you coming?” Crowley asked. “I’ve no interest in causing you any harm. When you show up, you can tell them that I sent you there as my guest.”

“Well, I suppose it’ll be worth going if you’ll be there.”

Crowley blushed. He nodded, unable to speak anymore. 

“I’ll see you there,” Aziraphale said. 

Crowley nodded again. It was all he could do. His heart was in his throat, and his stomach was in knots. 

He took a deep breath when Aziraphale walked away. 

This would mean trouble. 


End file.
